Stairways to heaven: Bagan: 2009

A one horse town

Old Bagan by day

We flew to Bagan on February 26, actually to Nyaung U, a 20 minute flight that was only 40 minutes late. After trundling off the plane and paying our $10 US 'donation fee' to visit the archaelogical zone, we looked around for our bags. There was no carousel, just a big hall with a door on one side leading to the tarmac and a door on the other leading to the road. After about 10 minutes, we saw all these guys carrying bags in from the tarmac. Using some form of Burmese ESP they knew who belonged to what, and, as if by magic, here came our man with our two bags.

Nyaung U, Old Bagan, and new Bagan ( where the folk who used to live in Old Bagan were relocated ) follow a bend in the Irrawaddy River in the middle of Burma's central plain and are only 5 or 6 kilometers apart. This means it's flat, folks, except for Mt. Popa, where the 37 natsor spirits reside. Bagan has over 3,000 temples and flourished during the 11th - 13th centuries. Some of the temples are in the process of being restored and some attempt is being made to protect many of the fading murals depicting Buddha's many lives from over-exposure to too many tourists, many are full of tourists (mostly French and Japanese), but there are lots of temples where you will feel like you are the only person who has visited since the builders left.

Old Bagan at sunset

Inn Wa Guest House was our home for the next three nights. It had aircon (when gov't power was on), fan if generator was working, hot water, a toilet that really flushed, and green wall to wall carpeting. Breakfast was served on the rooftop overlooking Nyaung U's one main street and featured wonderful papaya, oranges, bananas, eggs, toast, and, alas, the everpresent coffee in a tube.

The staff told us where to use the internet (it was someone's house with one computer!) changed money, rented us bikes, and arranged a horse cart tour. The first night we ate at San Kabar where we had huge avocado salad and thin crust pizza. Apparantly an Italian opened a restaurant here, and pretty soon there were many imitators. Pizza is everywhere! This was delicious, crusty, fresh tomatoes, olives, real cheese!!!, but again no real coffee.

Old Bagan by horse cart

The cart driver was Nye Nye and the cart had a covered flat cushioned platform to recline on.

Nat sat next to Nye Nye and I lolled about in the back as we spent the day going from temple to temple, climbing those stairways to heaven, many of them crumbling, none with guard rails, some with importuning sellers of 3,000 year old beads, sand paintings, lacquer ware, stone figures, some blissfully empty. The styles are Indian, Hindu, and Buddhist, a little something for everyone. Some of the murals are as vibrant as the day they were painted, others not.

Seller of horsehair lacquerware. We bought!

The scariest moment was when we climbed one of the temples to watch the sunset. We hauled ourselves up five very
steep tiers, along with hordes of French and Japanese visitors, including quite a few small children. At the top there were hawkers trying to display sand paintings, people perched on the low ramparts, kids crying, tourists groaning from the climb, and a bright red sun sinking to the horizon behind hazy temples. I spent the entire time plastered to a wall like spider woman wondering when someone was going to sail off the edge. Spectacular!

Horse carts raising dust on the dirt trails, temple bells chiming, and the thought of a cold beer made it worth the effort. It makes me wonder what 'progress' is when you see these graceful temples, short and tall, stretching off in every direction for as far as the eye can see. Ahhhh, yes, time for that beer!

Looking down

This young man acted as a human guard rail for me as we edged our way around the top of a temple. He is an artist and makes a living by selling sand paintings ( sand is mixed with paint to act like a gesso on cotton cloth) of some of the temple murals that are no longer allowed to be photographed. When we bought one, his wife took the bills and tapped them against all the other paintings displayed on the temple floor. 'For luck', she said.

Tight fit.

This is a kind of checkers played with tiny shells by horse cart drivers waiting outside temples.

Temples we didn't have to climb

This temple was surrounded by a locked wire fence. Not a soul in sight, but when we showed up, the gate keeper appeared to let us in.

Shwezigon Paya is in Nyaung U and is a 'working' temple where local people go. Lots of gold and nothing that has to be climbed!

This young girl watched our bikes for 200 kyat (about .20 cents) . She wanted, like many others, a Canada pin. Of which we had none! Ok, then a pen would do. Nope. Finally gave her my empty water bottle, for which she can get a few kyat.

An Unexpected Festival

Woke up one morning to a great cacophony of drums, gongs, and general mayhem. This is what we saw when we ran to the balcony. It was the initiation of very young boys, maybe 6 years old, into the monkhood. At least that's what we think it was....it was open to interpretation.